Page 7 of Ciaran

I’m not in Chicago any longer. The message can’t be from Tanner because he doesn’t know my new number.

Despite my internal pep talk, my hands tremble as I reach for my phone. I glance at the screen.

Any pizza, any size. $5.99. Pick-up only.

For Christ’s sake! I almost had a coronary because of a stupid spam text.

Wide awake now, I go to switch off my cell, then change my mind. Instead, I open up the contacts app and scroll down until I reach Mom and Dad. I hover my finger over the call button but can’t bring myself to take the final step.

Both my parents had vehemently opposed my marriage to Tanner, but once I turned eighteen, they’d been powerless to stop me. I flounced off into the sunset with my brand-new football-star husband and hadn’t looked back.

At first, I relished my newfound freedom. I was an adult—no one could stop me from doing exactly as I pleased. Unfortunately, as the weeks and months passed, I realized I missed my parents. I’d mentioned to Tanner about taking a trip back home, but he’d come up with a good reason at the time—probably something to do with his fledgling football career—and I’d let it slide.

Over the next decade, he gradually isolated me from all of my family and friends. It happened so slowly I hadn’t noticed until it was too late. If I pushed, he’d throw a tantrum and sulk. Then the nastiness began. It had been easier to give in; to let him have his way. I stopped talking about my mom and dad, and apart from the odd phone call at Christmas or on birthdays, I’d barely seen my folks in the last ten years.

Now I’m back in the same city, I long to hold them, to tell them they were right, and I was wrong. To apologize for all the missed opportunities to reconnect and make up for the years that have gone by.

But my pride, my total humiliation, and my fear that Tanner will look there first stops me from dialing their number. Not yet. First, find a job, put some money aside, and somehow fix the broken woman Tanner created, then think about seeing Mom and Dad.

Tears of frustration burn behind my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. As much as I want to cry, I can’t. I’ve become expert in hiding my feelings, mainly because Tanner fed on misery. The more he realized he’d hit the target, the more he’d poke at the open wound.

I take a quick shower and get ready for my dinner with Ciaran. At least one good thing has come out of this horrendous situation: I’ve reunited with a man who’s always been special, even if he’s never realized it. Looking back, Callum had demanded attention with a broody, James Dean vibe, whereas Ciaran’s quiet, steady manner and pained, crooked smiles had set him apart. What a pity I hadn’t recognized the strength in him back then. I’d been too dazzled by the bright lights.

And for that I paid a hefty price.

Chapter 3

Millie

I allow plenty of time to walk back to the seedy hotel where I arranged to meet Ciaran. An empty feeling gnaws at my stomach, more nerves than hunger, and I keep having to wipe my clammy palms on a tissue. What if Ciaran chooses to investigate my past? How will I stop him from taking too close a look? He always had been smart, watchful… and stubborn. The type of man to dig in his heels and refuse to let go. I didn’t miss the way he’d studied my body language. He knew something was wrong, and I can’t face a man I’ve always admired knowing what a failure I’ve become.

The urge to return to my apartment is strong, but standing him up will only give him further cause to push for answers, so I give myself a good talking to. Either I spend the rest of the evening holed up in that disgusting hovel eating ramen noodles, dwelling on my screwed-up life, or I go out with someone who was once a great friend, where I’ll get to eat a proper meal and reminisce about old times. Happier times.

I arrive at the hotel ten minutes early and hover around outside. Several undesirables come and go, a number of whom give me the once-over, so I rummage around in my purse, reassured when my fingers close around the can of mace I bought the moment I discovered this hotel was the best I could afford.

Relief surges through me when I spot Ciaran on the other side of the street, his tall frame easily distinguishable from those around him. The way he carries himself—pure cop—commands a level of healthy respect as people move out of his path. The setting sun catches the angular cut of his jaw, and the wind ruffles his rich, dark hair, making a warmth spread across my chest. How odd that I’ve never noticed how handsome he is, even though he and Callum are identical twins.

Back away, Millie.

I’ve only just walked out on my husband, and already I find myself attracted to someone else. That’s a complication I don’t need in my life. I’ll have dinner, chat about our schooldays, studiously avoid any questions about Tanner, and hope Ciaran really does have a lead on a job for me.

When he sees me, he waves and, after checking to make sure the street is clear, jogs across. “You should have waited inside.”

“Safer out here,” I joke.

He twists his lips to the side. “You’re probably right.”

We ride the subway to Soho, chatting about safe subjects like the weather and Ciaran’s job. He stops outside a restaurant I quickly realize I’m not dressed for, making me stutter to a halt.

“What’s wrong?”

I glance at my simple dress and flat shoes. “Will they let me in dressed like this?”

His lips flatten. “You look beautiful.”

Opening the door to the restaurant, he presses a hand to my lower back, urging me into the bustling establishment. It has a trendy vibe, which is just what I need to remind myself I’m only twenty-eight, not sixty-eight. While we wait for the hostess to locate Ciaran’s reservation, I find myself tapping my foot and nodding in time to the music. My stomach churns, stopping me. I mustn’t allow myself to be drawn in or to relax too much in case I say the wrong thing. I can’t afford that luxury.

Ciaran playfully nudges my shoulder. “Someone’s got itchy feet.”

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